


Meet me where the feeling is high

by tahariel



Series: Backseat 'verse [8]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Dom/sub, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 17:26:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tahariel/pseuds/tahariel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The problem with going back to work after a week of having his virginity removed in every way possible is that Charles has not really been left equipped for concentration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meet me where the feeling is high

Erik’s hands are steady as they button up Charles’ shirt for him, dragging slowly up from the bottom, one by one, and putting on a shirt has never felt so much like being fastened into position, like being enfolded safely. The tails are tucked in, Erik’s hands slipping into his pants to smooth the fabric over his ass and groin, not lingering but enough to make him sigh. Charles stays obediently still, though he’s more than capable of dressing himself, and just lets Erik do it for him. It feels very intimate. Though he would usually do up the top button himself, Erik leaves it open, carefully smoothing out the lapels so they lay just so.

It’s clear what Erik’s doing from the way he runs his thumb along the smooth metal of Charles’ collar, then along Charles’ lower lip, eyes hot; Erik is ensuring everyone can see the thick band of silver newly encircling Charles’ throat, only just becoming familiar where it sits heavily against his skin, smooth enough not to chafe but noticeable, nonetheless, whenever he swallows. It’s simultaneously reassuring and intoxicating, and Charles has not forgotten it’s there for a moment since Erik put it on him. Only a little of that is to do with the way Erik keeps playing with it.

“Here,” Erik says, and reaches behind Charles for something he’s obviously been keeping hidden; when he shows it to Charles it takes him a moment to realise that the grey straps and metal fastenings laid across Erik’s palms are a pair of suspenders, two clips for the front converging to just the one in back. For a moment he’d thought - 

He can’t decide if he’s relieved or disappointed, though really he ought to be relieved that Erik isn’t making him wear a harness to work.

Erik has to step in close to clip the suspenders to Charles’ pants, and he doesn’t make Charles turn for the back one, just loops the top of the strap over his head - Charles ducks his chin automatically, though he hardly needs to, his forehead brushing against Erik’s bare collarbone - and Erik holds him in place with one warm, big hand on his hip as his other hand fastens the back clip. There’s a firm tug, and the straps tighten on his shoulders, cinching his shirt in to his body and making Charles take a sharp breath, one he hides against Erik’s skin. Oh. Perhaps it is a harness, after all.

Erik pulls back and lets his eyes slip down and up Charles’ body, taking him in with a rumble of approval, runs a finger under the strap to make sure it’s not too tight. “Good. Dress me now.”

He gestures at the clothes he’s laid out on the bed with one hand as he calls his watch to him from the dresser across the room with the other. The watch goes on his right wrist instead of the left - his bonding bracelet takes up the left wrist now. Charles reaches for the sleek charcoal grey suit pants, pulling them from the hanger and shaking them out before pausing. Should he kneel, for Erik to step into the pants, or just bend, or - 

“Like this.” Erik puts his hand on Charles’ shoulder, pressing him down until his knees have to bend, and then it’s just easier to lower himself to the ground, taking the weight of his Dom’s body as Erik lifts his feet one after the other into the pants, threading them through the cuffs. When he takes his hand away Charles stands slowly, pulling the fabric up with him as he goes. Erik makes no comment as Charles tugs them into place, just watches, expectant; Charles has to put his hands around Erik’s waist to make sure they’re lying flat before he reaches for the fly, and carefully, biting his lip, zips and buttons him.

Erik smiles and kisses him, quick and sweet, before pulling back. “Good. Shirt next.”

There is an oddly sensual delight in pulling the sleeves up and over the muscles of Erik’s arms, hiding them away from view under a veneer of respectability and crisp white cloth; he fastens the cufflinks Erik hands him one wrist at a time, fingertips brushing over the beating pulse there, then the front, fingers trailing up Erik’s long, lean abdomen and making sure he doesn’t trap any of the sparse chest hair in the buttons when he reaches the low scooped neckline of the undershirt. He brushes some of it under the hem and keeps his eyes lowered demurely as he does it. Erik inhales sharply, and his heart beats a rapid staccato under his skin when Charles reaches the top, fastens it, and slides his hands down to tuck the shirt in. Erik is half-hard, his cock swelling a little against the front of his briefs when Charles presses his fingers there for a moment to check for wrinkles in the fabric.

“Now the tie,” his Dom says, his voice husky as Charles loops it around his neck and has to lift his eyes to flip the shirt’s collar out of his way. When he looks up Erik’s eyes are hot, fixed firmly on Charles’ face and skipping lower to his mouth as his hands work a perfect double Windsor without looking, flipping the thick silk around and over and through and pulling it tight in a parody of his own collar. 

Erik pulls a tie pin over from the dresser too, a sharp little flash of metal that he stabs through the silk almost vindictively, without so much as glancing away from Charles. It’s intoxicating, and it’s all Charles can do not to fall back down to his knees, to lean into Erik’s body and his hold and beg to be touched, but…

…they have to go to work.

“Jacket,” Erik says, and holds his arms out for Charles to slide it over everything else, buttons this himself, tugging it straight and checking his appearance in the mirror. “Are you ready to go?”

“I need my cardigan and my jacket,” Charles says, and submits to Erik selecting a dark blue one from his half of the closet and tugging it on for him, finger-combing his hair tidy again when it’s left tousled, stroking it down for a few moments past the point at which it is lying flat. “Shoes?”

“By the door. Let’s go.”

 

~*~

 

After a week of almost exclusively Erik’s company, it’s odd to be going outside and joining the regular morning foot traffic toward the subway station. As they head out onto the street Erik reaches for Charles’ arm, pulling him in close against his side with his arm tucked into Erik’s; there are people, Doms and subs, everywhere at this time of morning, and Charles pulls in his shields tighter to block them out, locks them down carefully around himself to keep from getting overwhelmed. Crowds have never bothered him especially unless he’s tired, but today it’s like a feast after a famine. It’s very different, here in the city, to how it was in Westchester, when he could reach out without fear and find only people he knew.

He reaches for Erik’s mind instead, which is cool and steady against his own, already becoming familiar, and it’s even better when Erik notices him reaching and reaches back, holds metaphysical hands with Charles as they walk, a loose clasp of thoughts together so casual that Charles has to lean into him harder for a moment, grateful and relieved to have found somebody who reaches back.

He feels rather than sees Erik smile, a warmth like the sun breaking through the clouds.

The stairs down to the subway are as busy as ever, and they’re jostled a little as they follow the flood downward into the dimmer underground. Erik’s physical hand tightens around Charles’ arm, forcibly keeping him close so they don’t get separated, and when somebody in a hurry nearly knocks Charles out of Erik’s grasp his Dom turns and glares at him with such ferocity that the impatient man backs off four or five steps, tripping over somebody else’s suitcase and starting a ruckus in the crowd of commuters behind them.

“Come on, this way,” Erik says when they reach the bottom of the stairs, and draws Charles off towards one of the platforms.

He spends the train journey wedged between Erik’s tall body and the wall in the corner of the carriage, surrounded by Erik’s arms braced to either side of his head with his Dom keeping the mass of bodies away from him. Erik looks so calm and unstrained by it when Charles looks up at him, those grey-green eyes gazing out of the window at the darkness rushing past outside. It’s soothing. He takes a peek at what Erik is looking at and finds him tracking the wires and cables and electricity in the tunnels as they pass, an artificial root system of a manmade organism that only Erik can see the full extent of.

The carriage is noisy, and smells like a lot of people in a small space always does, and Charles leans his forehead forward to brush against Erik’s chest, hiding his face and burying his nose in the smell of their familiar soap and Erik, underneath, sweating faintly from the heat.

As they get closer to the centre of town Erik is forced to move ever closer to Charles until their bodies are brushing all along their fronts, and Charles swallows hard, thinks about work to try and distract himself from the nearness of this body which has been teaching his about sex all week, touching him everywhere and leaving him trembling and loveworn. It’s harder than he’d ever expected before he’d actually had sex, and harder yet when he can hear Erik thinking about Charles on the floor sucking him off, here in the train, everybody else in the carriage with them mysteriously distracted.

Erik turns his head to look at Charles, shuffles closer yet when the man behind him shifts and drives the corner of his briefcase into Erik’s ribs. “I’ll drop you off at the university,” he says, “so I can see where you work. What time do you finish tonight?”

“I can be done at five.”

“I don’t finish until six, earliest, when I’ve been away a week, but I’ll do my best to get away from the idiots I work with on time. Stay at your office until I come to pick you up.”

Charles nods, tipping his head back enough to see his Dom’s expression in the close space between them. “Yes, Erik.”

“Work-appropriate obedience only. If anybody thinks they can touch you now because you’re bonded, disabuse them of the notion. You’re mine,” Erik says, and brings one hand to Charles’ face to hold him for a kiss as the train slows for their stop. “Mine.”

Charles leans into the kiss, rests his hands on Erik’s waist for balance and lets his eyes slip closed. “Yours.”

They lurch together as the train comes to a stop at the Morningside Heights campus, and Erik wraps his fingers around Charles’ wrist again to lead him off the train, pulling him in to Erik’s side as soon as there’s the space. It’s easier here to see the other bonded couples, similarly paired up, though not all are as physical as the two of them - probably not many of them are newly-bonds, if any. Maybe Erik will relax this constant vigilance after they’ve been together for longer, once he knows Charles well, once they’re used to one another.

Charles hopes not.

He can feel the braces pulling at his shoulders as they climb back up to street level, not too tight but a reminder, nonetheless.

Up on the street it’s just as busy as everywhere else, but this time Charles has to lead a little - he tugs gently on Erik’s arm to redirect him and they cut off the main thoroughfare down a sidestreet that will get them to the Columbia University School of Mutant Studies.

The building is separate from the other faculties by virtue of being one of the newest schools and thus needing space which couldn’t be offered in the existing campus; it only split off from the School of Biological Studies ten years ago as the subject area grew more popular and the avenues of research widened. The board had built new labs into the building, too, specially designed to contain the sorts of plasma, human flight and biological acid experiments they were starting to do. It wasn’t enough to prevent all damage- they were the only faculty that put aside half their budget for repair work - but being in the same building meant the researchers could cross-specialise and consult with a wide variety of disciplines on the same problem. 

Charles himself works in one of the most sedate departments. Not too many power-based mishaps in genetics research.

As they walk in the front door Erik moves his arm from where it’s been linked with Charles’ to wrap it around his waist, fingers hooked through his far belt loop to keep him there. Charles ducks his head as they pass people he knows, blushing as he greets them, because of course they know what his week has consisted of, and while it’s far from abnormal - it happens to everyone who gets bonded - he’s embarrassed nonetheless by the stares and one or two wolf whistles from students who get glared into silence by Erik.

“If anything happens today or any other day, call me at once,” Erik says sharply as they reach the stairs and start walking up to the first floor where Charles shares a little office with two other grad students. “Either by telephone or with your mind. My number is programmed in your cell, and if you can’t get hold of me either way, call Emma. Her number is in your phone too.”

“Nothing is going to happen,” Charles says, and lets Erik open the landing door for them, stepping through and waiting for Erik to take hold of his waist again. “I’ll be fine, it’s just school.”

Erik scowls. “Call me. It’s my job to make sure you’re safe.”

“Yes, Erik.”

“Do you remember what I did to you that first night?” Erik asks suddenly, just as they reach the open door of Charles’ office, and Charles feels himself flush a bright and sudden red, because he does, in full technicolour and sensation, and he’s been waiting for Erik to do it again all week - to push him down and open Charles up and fill him with his cock, to fuck him incoherent and pleading - but they’ve done everything but that, since that first night, and he hasn’t yet quite got over his embarrassment long enough to ask for it. Erik smirks when he sees Charles’ face, a wide white flash of teeth, and he pushes Charles up against the wall outside the door, holds him there with a hand on his chest and leans in to say quietly into his ear, “Then you’d better be good today, and if you are we can have a re-enactment when we get home.”

Charles whimpers, just a little under his breath, when he realises he’s hard, erection pressing against the placket of his dress pants. Surely nobody is going to miss it, the only reason nobody can see at the moment is Erik looming over him - 

“Introduce me to your colleagues, I have to get to work,” Erik says in a calm and even tone, but he is still smirking as Charles makes himself straighten, biting his lip hard to try and distract his wayward cock from thinking about getting fucked - oh God. His hole clenches in anticipation, and Erik just watches him, raising an eyebrow when Charles makes him wait a little too long.

“Are you a telepath or aren’t you?” Erik asks eventually, and takes Charles’ arm, pulling him away from the wall. “Make them not notice. It’s not going to hurt them. You have my permission, now I need to get to work.”

And Charles relaxes on a sudden wave of relief, prompting a snort from his Dominant as he leads Charles into the little office.

Only Hank is in there, and he gets to his feet almost immediately, alarmed at first until he sees Charles; the feeling of him putting two and two together is as soothing as ever, the rapid-fire click click click of pieces fitting into place in his mind and making order out of chaos. A little nudge has him oblivious to Charles’ issues in the trouser department. “Hello, Hank,” Charles says, and lets Erik herd him over to his own desk, though quite how Erik guessed which one it was - oh, of course, name plate. “May I introduce my Dominant, Erik Lehnsherr? Erik, this is Hank McCoy, he’s my colleague in the department.”

It’s obvious from Hank’s behaviour - head ducked, hands behind his back, naked neck and wrists, nervous expression - that he’s a submissive, and unbonded, and so Erik gives him a polite nod of the head instead of baring his neck or offering to shake, pulling Charles’ bag from his shoulder and depositing it on the desk. “I will be back for you this evening,” he says quietly, turning his back on Hank to face Charles, who is trying hard not to think about that part in case the nudge he gave the other submissive wears off. “I’ll see you later. Be good.”

“I will,” Charles says, yielding to a brief kiss on the mouth, sweet but perfunctory in public, and then Erik is whisking back out the door in a few long strides and Charles is left leaning against the edge of his desk trying not to pant or run after him.

“He seems… nice,” Hank says after a long minute of silence, dutifully tapping away at his keyboard and pretending not to notice how out of it Charles is. It’s hard to see when Hank is blushing under all the fur, but Charles can always tell.

He smiles, and wobbles around his desk to reach his office chair where he can finally sit down without worrying about falling down. “He is.”

Hank shifts, lifting his hands away from the keyboard and tucking away his claws carefully before he folds his arms. He looks too strong to be a submissive, really, Charles has always thought; maybe if he’d been this way as a child then he would have grown up Dominant instead, but with the change coming on years after he was oriented, it makes for an odd dichotomy of strength and timidity. Hank has long since learnt to speak clearly around the long canines that had grown in in his teens, so there’s not even a lisp remaining when he says, “By nice I meant scary.”

“Who, Erik?”

“No, Santa Claus. Yes, your Dominant. He gave me this really intense look…”

“He probably wanted to make sure you were a sub before he left me here,” Charles says, smiling to himself as he reaches for his in-tray, which is overflowing with paper after a whole week away. “Erik is… possessive. In a good way. A lot of people mistype you, Hank, you know that.”

“Hmph.” Hank is looking at him over the tops of his glasses, but he’s clearly trying not to smile now, too. “You seem happy, Charles.”

And Charles smiles wider, fingers lifting to the cool metal of his collar, stroking it and wondering if Erik can feel it when he touches it. “I am.”

 

~*~

 

He spends the day catching up on emails and notes left in his tray by students and professors and a few sample donors wanting to check their results - the department offers free genetic testing for any mutant or relative willing to give a sample, which has greatly increased their DNA library - which he answers one by one, much more slowly than usual. Charles knows he’s daydreaming a bit, but he can’t seem to get over that first-day-back-after-vacation feeling, and Erik’s voice making that promise outside the office earlier is still swimming in his blood, making it an effort to keep himself under control and not popping an erection at regular intervals. He is very overtly aware of his collar and suspenders, simultaneously grounding and distracting him, containment and key at the same time.

He’s a bit resentful that nobody warned him getting bonded and starting to have sex would be like this - that he would be thinking about it all the time even when Erik wasn’t here, even when he was doing something else and it was inappropriate. Charles has known newly-bonds before, of course, but he’s mostly tried to block them out - initially because the idea of being bonded was too scary, and then slowly too appealing, for him to want to torment himself by listening in. Now Charles wishes he’d had more family growing up, some older submissive who could have drawn him aside and told him these things. Raven has been everything to him, and she was more than enough, but she’s his younger sister, and a Dominant, and she tried very hard to cover all the bases but… there was only so much she could do.

Charles lets himself put his head down on the desk for a few minutes when Hank gets up to go get a coffee from the machine down the hall, stares at the wood from far too close and tries to get himself to calm down and focus. He wonders whether Erik is doing any better, though Erik has had sex before, of course. It’s different for Doms, they’re encouraged to experiment with each other before they take on a submissive.

He reaches out blindly to try and find Erik, but when he does find that one bright mind his Dominant only acknowledges him briefly, a brush of thought like a distracted buss of lips against his forehead, then gently pushes him back and gives off a feeling like the busy tone on a phoneline, his mind clearly elsewhere.

“Charles? Are you okay?” Hank asks from the doorway, and Charles just groans and says, “Hank, I need to stop thinking about sex.”

Hank chokes, and when Charles looks up in alarm the other submissive is coughing up coffee, blushing fiercely purple. “Oh. Sorry, Hank, I didn’t - let me get you a tissue.”

There is coffee on the floor and all down Hank’s chin, beading there and slicking down his fur. “It’s fine,” Hank gurgles once he’s swallowed the rest of what he’s spat up, and they spend the rest of the morning until lunchtime avoiding each other’s gaze and making really awkward small talk. When Ororo arrives after her morning classes she gives them both a questioning look, but even her best Domme face can’t pull an answer out of Hank, and Charles, following orders, elects not to say anything at all in the way of explanation.

“As long as you haven’t had a fight,” she says eventually, and when reassured that that isn’t the case, shrugs and gets on with her own work.

 

~*~

 

He finally knuckles down in the afternoon, surrounded by a flurry of papers and uncapped pens in a variety of colours as he marks up his schedule for the next few weeks - Erik asked him for a copy, and Charles wants it to be clear to understand, office hours and classes and lab time each highlighted in a different shade, with phone numbers written down the side for each. He’s so involved in his work by the end of the day that the hand falling on the back of his neck is an utter surprise, and Charles jerks away with a startled yell before he realises it’s Erik, stood over him with his jacket slung over his forearm.

“Busy day?”

Charles leans his head into the touch, heart pounding in his chest from the fright. “Hello. Yes. Are we going home now?”

Erik laughs and moves his hand, takes hold of Charles’ forearm and prompts him to his feet. “Yes. Pack up and let’s go.”

“I think I might be sick.” Ororo waggles her pen teasingly at Charles when he turns to look at her and raises an eyebrow at Erik. She’s already got to her feet to square off against him, chin lifted to equalise their heights a little. “Hi. I’m Ororo Munroe.”

“Erik Lehnsherr. Charles’ bondmate.” They shake, and Charles can see the moment Erik decides to respect Ororo - she doesn’t give an inch, and her smile is so serene that in the end they both let go together, taking a step back, Ororo to her desk and Erik to Charles.

The office seems very small with all four of them in there at once, poor Hank off to the side trying to get his work done and Charles grabbing his bag from under the desk to put his things away. Ororo twirls her long pale hair around her fingers and leans back against the edge of her desk, unphased. “Take him home, he’s been useless all day.”

“Oh, thank you for that,” Charles says, but he laughs, anyway, lets Erik pick up his bag and sling it over Charles’ shoulder impatiently. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye, Hank.”

“Bye,” Hank says, and it sounds a little mournful, though Hank doesn’t look up from his work. Charles pauses on that, because it’s been a bit touchy between them all day. Maybe Hank is thinking about bonding… he’s young yet, but then he is the type who would do better living away from home. His parents aren’t terribly supportive, especially since he went through his second bout of mutation, though they have at least paid for his education.

Erik’s arm comes down around Charles’ shoulders, and he lets the thought go for the time being, because Erik’s body is warm against his side and he’s thinking about that promise again as Erik’s mouth presses against his temple, dry and affectionate. “Come on.”

He feels like he ought to ask Erik about his day, but he’s just enjoying the closeness after a long day apart - it’s odd how used he’s become to Erik after just a week together, talking and sleeping and eating and watching movies, and having sex. A lot of sex. Charles shivers a little under Erik’s hand and gets a curious glance and a sly smile for his trouble, blinks slowly and tries to look back at him innocently as they exit the building, but he’s not fooling anyone.

“Wait,” Erik says quietly, moves his arm down to hook around Charles’ waist, keeps him there even though it would be easier to walk arm-in-arm. On the train he boxes Charles in again and very deliberately breathes down Charles’ neck, hot and moist, where nobody can see. And on the walk home from the station he acts as though nothing is going on, face utterly impassive even though he’s projecting filthy images at Charles the whole way, skin and oil and splayed limbs, rocking together.

By the time they get in the door Charles is half-undone already, trembling with anticipation, and when Erik shuts it behind them and says, “Go to the bedroom,” he drops his bag where he stands and hurries to obey, only to realise when he gets there that Erik is coming behind him more slowly, walking steadily towards him at a controlled pace.

His Dominant stops in the doorway and just looks at him with eyes half-lidded and hot as stars, flicking them down and up Charles’ body, taking him in. “Strip,” Erik says, and watches as Charles replays their morning in reverse, letting each item fall to the carpet in turn - the suspenders first, loops finally losing their tension when he slips them from his shoulders and his pants pooling around his feet, the slow unbuttoning of his shirt and toeing off his dress shoes - terrible for the backs, but Charles doesn’t care right now. 

The shirt is clinging around his forearms and his feet tangled in fabric still when Erik steps forward and wraps a hand around Charles’ throat above the collar, uses the grip to push him back onto the bed half-dressed and ensnared, trapped on his back under Erik’s looming body. “More haste, less speed,” Erik says, face still utterly still and calm, and pulls Charles’ hands up above his head, pushes them against the mattress and adds, “keep them there,” as he considers the rest of the tangle. “This is nice, but maybe another time.”

“Please,” Charles says, and bends up towards Erik when he leans over him to pull the shirt off Charles’ wrists, tossing it aside. “I missed you.”

The pants go the same way, dragged down from his ankles along with his socks and thrown to the floor away from the bed. “Did you now. I’m glad,” and Erik reaches for Charles’ briefs, then pauses and strokes him through them, startling a cry from his throat, pleasure running up and down his body. It feels like he’s been waiting all day for Erik to touch him. The pressure increases and Charles’ eyes water, sounds getting caught before he can let them out, because it is so _good_. “I missed you too,” Erik says, “stay there,” and he stands up, reaching for his own belt.

Charles watches Erik strip with a hunger he had not known existed before the last week, as each piece of skin is revealed; broad shoulders, the lean lines of his chest and arms, his trim waist and belly, and then - he tries not to beg aloud - Erik’s cock, already hard and rising further when he pushes down his pants and underwear, red and thick and swelling. 

“Turn over,” Erik says, and his voice is a low, gravelled sound.

Charles rolls onto his belly and waits, breathless and aroused, head turned to the side so he can watch Erik’s shadow move closer across the wall - the mattress dips behind him, and he waits - he’s rocked slowly from side to side as Erik climbs up and over him, bracketing Charles’ body with his own, not close enough to touch but close enough to feel body heat between them on his bare skin.

Trembling has never felt as good as this, anticipation letting itself out in nervous energy, breath shuddering out of him.

Hands touch his shoulders, stroke down his back slow and steady, and Charles pushes up into them until they shove him down flat again, half-burying his face in the duvet. “No. Stay there. And no telepathy this time. I want you to just feel it.”

Charles’ cock is hard, flush against the bed and begging for him to rock his hips against the covers, but he doesn’t, keeps himself still with an effort. “Yes, Erik.”

“Did you like it when I fucked you that night?” Erik says conversationally, his hands running all over Charles’ body from shoulder to ass, caressing and pressing, petting and grabbing handfuls of his asscheeks to pull them apart and run a finger over his hole, which clenches down against it without Charles willing it to, pulls in tight away from the touch. Erik doesn’t seem concerned, just lets his fingers slide lower, stroke the space behind Charles’ sac almost too lightly to feel. It’s tantalising, and he whines from the effort of keeping still and not moving into it, not forcing the touch to firm. “I think you did. I think you’ve been thinking about it all day, Charles, wondering if you remembered it properly, if it really was that good or if you’re going to be disappointed. I think you want me to put my cock in your ass and fuck you until you can’t walk or think.”

“Please - ”

“Please what?”

And Charles lets out a desperate sound and says, “Please, Erik, fuck me,” and flushes pink all over with humiliation and excitement, cries out when Erik’s cock presses against the crease of his buttocks and Erik ruts against him, the tip of it catching on his hole without pressing in, shoving Charles’ hips forward against the bed and rubbing his trapped erection against the smooth fabric with a burst of pleasure that has him moaning and shaking. He’s weighed down and caught under Erik’s heavy body on top of him, unable to see anything more than Erik’s straining forearm braced by Charles’ shoulder, muscles shifting under the skin. “Please, please Erik fuck me - ”

There’s a slam of the bedside table drawer pulling open and shut, and something falls on the bed by his thigh; there’s no time to try and look before Erik is rearing back and grabbing for Charles’ hips, dragging him up onto his knees and elbows with his ass raised high against Erik’s crotch, head down low. Charles pants and moans and lets Erik manhandle his legs until they’re spread wide, pressing his knees further and further apart until he feels open and vulnerable, cock dangling between his legs with nothing to rub off against, Erik out of sight behind him.

“I’m going to open you up now,” Erik says, and then there is a warm, slick touch against his hole, and Charles shudders and holds still as a finger probes his ass, rubs all around his anus, and that’s where Erik’s cock is going to go, he’s going to be stretched open and filled and pinned and _fucked_ \- the finger pushes inside and Charles cries out, hips rolling forward away from it only to be grabbed and forced back onto it, held in place while Erik thrusts his slicked-up finger in and out of Charles’ burning hole, rubbing and stroking inside of him where only Erik has ever been. He clenches around it and gets a smack on the ass for his trouble, gasps and hides his face in his forearms as a second finger slides up alongside the first and starts forcing its way in past the tight muscle. It’s a stretch, and it feels so strange, but not bad, fingers turning and scissoring inside of him as he shakes and his cock gets wet with pre-come, Erik forcing his knees wider apart until he has no leverage to move, thighs straining.

The third finger feels even stranger, his whole ass feels hot and tingling from being loosened up, the duvet is damp from his moist breath where he’s been panting and tears dripping from his screwed-shut eyes, and why is he crying when it feels - he feels - 

Erik pulls his fingers out with a wet sound, and Charles feels open and loose and empty, and he hears himself making this desperate noise, sobbing, before there is a broad, blunt pressure at his hole, and he thinks - oh God - and Erik’s huge, hard cock is pushing forward and into Charles’ ass, splitting him open, forcing his cheeks apart to make space for it to stretch his hole wide enough to take it, Erik’s thumbs holding him open so he can watch as he slides in and in and in.

“It hurts, it - Erik - ”

“Sssh, God, you’re so tight - stay there for me, Charles, like a good boy - ” Erik’s hands move back to his hips and then Charles screams as Erik pulls almost all the way out only to shove back in again, and it feels so - he’s so full and stretched and spread wide and caught, taken charge of, and it feels amazing, pleasure shocking through his body at the drag of Erik’s cock in and out of his ass. Charles shudders and shakes and begs and pleads Erik to fuck him harder, is borne down into the mattress by the force of it, skin slapping against skin. A hand comes to rest on the back of his neck, over the collar, and Erik holds him there as he rotates his hips until Charles feels - something - like an explosion in his body, screams louder, writhing on his Dominant’s cock as Erik pounds him there again and again.

“God, you’re tight, Charles, clench for me, squeeze - _Charles -_ ” Everything gets more intense when he does what he’s told, and Erik only thrusts into him once more before Charles is coming, yelling and shaking and shooting come all over the bed, his legs trembling with the effort of keeping them both up. His whole body clenches down, it feels like, and then Erik is coming, too, pumping in and out of Charles’ squeezing hole as his hard cock judders and spurts hot wet semen into him, streaking his insides with it, one hand reaching forward to stroke Charles’ sweating face as Erik curses and thrusts through the last of it, filling him.

It hurts when Erik pulls out, but it feels good, too, even when a trickle of come follows and drips down Charles’ swollen hole and down behind his balls. Charles feels split open and sore and he wants to do it again, even as his legs are shuddering and trying to give way. “Lie down,” Erik says gently, and strokes his face again, pulls sweat-sodden hair away from Charles’ forehead and nudges him sideways off the wet patch where Charles came all over the bedspread, strokes his broad palms all over Charles’ body, even though Charles can feel Erik’s fatigue too.

“Could you cuddle me?” he asks, and it gets Erik to lie down beside him, pull Charles into his arms so they can pant against one another, sweat-slick skin gliding easily. His ass hurts, but when Erik’s fingers slide down there to feel, he presses back into the touch, lets them trace the stretched and puffy muscle, only makes a little pained sound under his breath.

“I thought about you all day,” Erik says, and kisses him, hands still roaming as he tips Charles onto his back, lets him rest there. “I had to deal with all these ridiculous problems that they’ve kept for me while I’ve been away, half of which they could have fixed on their own and the other half of which anybody else at senior level could have dealt with. If I didn’t have to work I’d keep you here in bed all day and never let you get up.”

“But we did that last week,” Charles murmurs, and smiles when Erik swats him playfully, hums under his breath as he’s caressed and soothed all over, enjoying the petting. “You’d have to let me up to go to the bathroom.”

“Not if I didn’t want to,” Erik says darkly, and kisses him again fiercely. “Do you really have to get a PhD? I could take you to work with me and you could sit under my desk and suck me off during boring meetings.”

“Goldenrod,” Charles says sleepily, and Erik freezes for a moment before realising he’s teasing and slapping his ass again. Charles just moans and lets himself be coddled.

 

~*~

 

He doesn’t concentrate any better at work the next day; Erik gets a seat on the train and has Charles sit in his lap squirming the whole way, aching and uncomfortable, something which only seems to amuse his Dominant. In the office Hank eventually hands him a cushion to sit on and refuses to meet his eyes for the rest of the day until Erik comes to fetch him, at which point Hank just abandons ship entirely.


End file.
